Can You Keep A Secret?
by CrimsonDreamer13
Summary: Where John H. Watson ponders on how paradoxical his feelings for Sherlock Holmes are; and he realizes that Holmes is not as all-knowing as he was known to be.


**Title:** Can You Keep A Secret?  
**Author/Artist:** CrimsonDreamer13**  
Character(s) or Pairing(s):** Watson/Holmes  
**Rating:** PG  
**Warnings:** Bromance?  
**Summary:** Where John H. Watson ponders on how paradoxical his feelings for Sherlock Holmes are; and he realizes that Holmes is not as all-knowing as he was known to be.

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There is an odd aching in my heart when I look at my friend.

I feel a strange joy with the knowledge that I'm one of the only people that have gotten so close to his heart, yet I feel sorrow with the fact that I was still oh so far. Such an unusual paradox it was, but it was true. I could almost always tell if he was feeling well, if he was pleased, disappointed, if he was excited for a new case. The latter was very much a relief for me, as it proved a great distraction to him from the needle.

But then there were times that I just could not understand the man, and I loathed it. Sometimes he would, for no clarified reason, avoid me; and it truly was distressing for me, seeing as I remembered doing him no wrong. I knew that he always had reasons for his actions, but I just could not help myself from feeling worried if I had somehow offended him.

There was so much pride in me, knowing that I was the closest friend he had. But there was regret as well, because I thought- I _knew-_ that it would not become anything more than that. Disappointment always dwelled in my heart as I thought that I was coward for never even trying to tell him my _true _feelings for him, how much I really worried for his well-being, and how much I just wanted to hit him for being so idiotic and careless in our adventures.

Ah, but surely, Holmes already knew how I felt for him? He was the great detective after all; nothing ever escapes him. Maybe it was only because of pity for me that he never confronted me about it or, if I were allowed a moment of being vain, he truly valued my companionship and did not want to ruin it by saying so. There were also the hands of justice that I would have to face, though the charges weren't even physically true yet as I did not know how my friend felt towards me.

But I always thought that I knew what he saw me as. I was only a friend to him. A companion. Someone he could show his different methods of investigating to who could learn, yet still be amazed each time he used one of his astonishing tactics. I always thought to myself that I should be satisfied with this, thinking that at least, somehow, I managed to get so close to him as to become his friend. But I never felt content. I continuously toss and turn in my chambers just thinking about it- about how life would be if he loved me as I did him.

"Watson? My dear doctor, are you feeling well?"

I jolted out of my reverie at that, whipping my head up to see the very friend I was thinking about as he loomed over me in curious worry. I only offered him a weak chuckle, waving my hand in dismissal as I spoke softly, "Do not worry yourself, old boy. I'm perfectly fine. Merely," I sighed, slicking my hair back as I slumped in my armchair, "Thinking."

His lips set into a thin line at that, eyebrows furrowed as he adopted that calculating look once again in his eyes. I could only shrink back in defense, knowing full well that he did not believe me. "Really, Holmes, I'm fine." I laughed a bit louder than I intended to and I winced inwardly, "The past makes me feel nostalgic is all."

He was silent for a few minutes and I tensed, worried that I said too much. My friend only shook his head at that, sitting back in his armchair as he placed his fingers together in front of his self like he always would to the people he interviewed. "Tell me, Watson," he raised his eyes to look into mine and I almost flinched, "Truly, what is troubling you? You cannot say that it is nothing, for I have noticed that you've become distant. You take all opportunities there are to avoid me, and I feel as though I have offended you in some way. Was there anything I did that upset you? Please do tell me."

I faltered at that, his commanding tone making me want to confess to him what it was that made me act like such. "I suppose..." I murmured to myself as I reclined into my chair, looking away from him and instead looking at the floor as I continued, "If you found out that I committed a crime without meaning to, would you shun me?"

He blinked at that, quirking an eyebrow as he replied, "I don't think I would, seeing as you did not really mean to commit that crime. Watson, are you saying that you..?"

I shook my head at that, laughing softly as I smiled a bitter smile, "No no, I'm not saying that I am a criminal, Holmes. Just," I clenched my fists, bowing my head as I breathed slowly, "I'm scared that I will become one after I do this."

"Do what-"

He couldn't even manage to finish his sentence when I got up, grabbing him by the nape and pulling him upwards to make our lips meet. It was with surprise that I felt him kiss back, rough lips colliding with my own as I fought back the surprised moan that threatened to escape from my mouth. We were panting for breath when we parted, a trail of saliva connecting our lips as we blinked our half-lidded eyes at each other. I smiled weakly as I leaned my forehead against his, speaking almost in a whisper, "I'm assuming that you knew all along?"

Holmes merely shrugged in reply, moving a bit to place a small kiss on my ear as he murmured, "I only hoped that you felt the same way, my dear Watson. I'm glad to see that you do." He gave me one of his reserved smiles, pulling away as he traced his thumb across my lower lip, "Though I'm flattered that you'd think me wise enough to see that you felt the same for me."

I merely laughed at this, taking away his hand from my chin and intertwining it with my own as I remarked, "I don't suppose you mind hiding a secret for me?"

He smiled with a twinkle of mischievousness in his eyes, pressing the back of my hand to his lips as I quirked my eyebrow in embarrassed amusement. "I do think I can keep a secret, Watson," he chuckled as he looked back up at me, "Swear on your honour to keep mine?"

"Of course."

"Good."

And to reassure and remind the general audience:

We did _not_ consummate on that exact same day. After all, we people of the Victorian Era were more discreet than most people pretend we are.

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A/N: This is a horrible, horrible fic. Augh, I'm just posting it for...er. Just to get it out there. I was feeling depressed when I started this and somewhere in the end...yeah, it happened. It's like I was on crack or something. *sigh* Hopefully you guys still enjoyed. Somehow.


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